Lifeline
by FrankandJoe3
Summary: There just comes that one point in time where you hurt so bad, there just isn't a world left to torture you. It's all gone and you couldn't be happier with it like that.


**Should I add (Only Supports KF/Rob) to the back of my username? I only write KF/Rob. If they hold hands in the fic, I intend them to be gay! If they don't, then they're just friends! I will not have Wally flirt with the blonde and ginger bitches! He won't flirt with old ebonies, other redheads and blonde bastards! He's only going to flirt with Robin and that's that! _ Next person to bring it up, I swear I'll jump through the computer screen and rip your balls off! If you don't have any, I'll sew you some on and then rip them off! WITH MY BARE HANDS, DAMN YOU! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the song. **

_Can you pull me from this ocean of despair? I'm drowning in the pain… breaking down again… _

Normally when you think of the word numb, you think of being temporarily paralyzed, unable to feel anything. It's what you feel when you've been sitting down for enough time and your legs start to tingle, little prickles and tingles making you giggle painfully at the awkwardness that came with trying to move until it wakes back up.

There's another kind of numb though; one that most people haven't experienced. It's like the feeling you get when the dentist gives you happy gas. The world becomes a black shadow that somehow, you can see bright as day in. You either feel like you're falling or flying, the world being nothing more than a soft bunch of cotton candy that breaks at even the simplest of taps. You can hear the world, but it's nothing more than a muffled blur to your ears. This was the numb Dick was feeling.

He didn't know where he was. He knew he was sitting somewhere, his ankles crossed and his hands setting on his knees. He knew he was ready to cry, but he wasn't going to. He knew someone was next to him, shaking him and calling his name, but he didn't know who or what name they were calling him. But to be honest, Dick couldn't care less.

No, he hadn't sat still until his whole body went numb. He hadn't lain in ice until he was nearly unconscious, just having been pulled out seconds earlier. All he had done was slowly trudged into the room, his heart broken in his chest, and collapsed on the chair. He was drowning in bitter sorrow, the kind that was cold enough to stop your heart and make your eyes burn. Someone was trying to save him, but it was no use. He _could _swim if he really wanted to, but he didn't.

Dick never had anyone to talk to about his problems because he never built up the trust levels that were destroyed after the deaths of his parents. When you bottle up your pain, you have no choice but to wade in what you're holing up, even when you don't mean to. It stays that way, even after you tell someone, because there's just so much pain and suffering trapped in there that had nowhere else to go.

He wasn't quite sure what pain it was that he was drowning in this time, but it soaked his clothes and made his heart race just as fast as the other times. It was the kind of pain that made you doubt your place on this earth and your role as a human. It made his frown deepen, his eyes darken, his face redden and his shoulders shake.

The muffled voices got louder and louder outside, but he still couldn't understand them. He didn't want to understand them. He didn't want help. To ask for help would be to admit weakness and if Batman or Bruce was one of those muffled voices, he couldn't risk that.

"Go away," he managed to find his voice in the numbness.

Even _it _sounded muffled in the darkness, despite the fact that it was coming from his own lips, not too far from his ears. It was as if nothing was attached properly. His ears couldn't hear; his mouth did a poor job of speaking; his hands wouldn't feel; he assumed his tongue was suddenly tasteless and from how hard it was to breathe in general, smelling would be completely out of the question.

The muffled voices got frantic and he could definitely feel hands on his biceps now, shaking him like mad. Why were they shaking him? That was stupid. You don't shake a sleepwalker, so why would you shake a paralyzed one? He hoped it was Wally because he wouldn't want anyone else to see him like this. That'd be simply embarrassing. Whoever it was definitely wasn't listening.

Dick just ignored them, letting himself drown in the pain. Every breath he took brought him closer and closer to breaking as the pain filled his lungs, replacing his oxygen. He hoped the bubbles would be pretty. He hoped some little girl would walk by, holding her daddy's hand, and point at them with a happy giggle of a sort. That'd probably be the nicest part of drowning like this. The only other good part was the numbness.

He couldn't feel his body. He couldn't feel his headache, he couldn't feel his burning eyes, his fists felt unclenched, his gritted teeth felt as loose as ever, his screwed up eyes felt wide open. The pain was its own painkiller, relieving him of having to feel it at all. It was peaceful almost, or at least until the bubbles stopped.

**Metaphorical drowning. Whoop. I hope this made sense. It probably didn't. Oh well. If you don't think it makes sense, just wait for some other reviewer to get it and explain it to the rest of you so you can go, "Ohhh…" in that dramatic echoic voice. Review?**

**-F.J. **


End file.
